


You're in my Arms so the Planets are Aligning

by Deadlynyghtshayde



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Romance, cav is a bit of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadlynyghtshayde/pseuds/Deadlynyghtshayde
Summary: He needed a break. Dakota found himself riding the subway distractedly staring out at the city, highly saturated in the evening sun....When Dakota has had enough of Cavendish's lack of appreciation he needs space. Without a word he disappears during an argument, falling into a cloud of dissociation he considers why he puts up with his maddening partner regardless of the toll it takes.A city-based Dakavendish fic. Not AU





	You're in my Arms so the Planets are Aligning

Dakavendish

He needed a break. Dakota found himself riding the subway distractedly staring out at the city, highly saturated in the evening sun.  
His heart had been battered and bruised by the many losses of his partner. He was often afraid to leave his side. However today he had, simply, had it.  
He would die for his partner. Kill for him. But there were days when he just needed his space. He knew the man didn’t... Couldn’t understand. And Dakota intended to keep it that way. But what was the point in hanging around just to be insulted repeatedly? Called selfish. Lazy. Unmotivated.

He was tired. So tired, and he knew the feeling would never go away.

Every night he woke up screaming. That was if he could even get to sleep in the first place. He didn’t know which was worse; both were caused by the same horrific memories. 

He rested his forehead on the cool metal pole in beside him, trying to push the hot, frightening thoughts from his mind. He wondered what it felt like to not have constant palpitations from exhaustion, how it felt to look in the mirror and see himself stare back without bags and fear lining his eyes. He couldn’t remember anymore.

Dakota hated running off on his partner like this, however he knew that if he hadn’t slipped out the anger from their argument would have broken him.  
He didn’t deserve Cavendish. He didn’t deserve anyone, Cavendish most of all. He could easily convince himself that all of his partner’s accidents were his own fault – being so absent minded, not thinking ahead enough to stop the smarter man from distractedly walking into the wrong place at the wrong time the first time around, he had seen the consequences too many times to count. Each time created wound upon would leaving Dakota a worthless mess. 

Worthless. It felt like that word was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, it was a constant whisper in the back of his mind, a reminder of who and what he was. His whole body was covered in these words, he couldn’t look down at himself without seeing them carved into his skin with each silvery scar. Worthless. Useless. Stupid. Disposable. Waste of space. Unnecessary. Die already. Kill yourself. KILL yourself. _KILL YOURSELF _. The angry whisper rose into a spitting yell causing him to hunch doubled, gripping his arms with a hiss.  
He pressed his forehead onto the bar again, thankful for the empty train car as his eyes flicked back up to the beautiful city again, a heavy sigh tearing from his lungs.__

____

_Dakota found his feet leading him out of the train when it pulled to a stop and the doors opened. Something inside of him knew where he was going, but consciously he couldn’t focus on the streets around him. _  
He realized he was in a café, his vision still blurry around the steaming cup of tea sat on the table in front of him, seeming to both mock and comfort him. Trying to cast his mind back on his walk to the café, he found the last thing he could remember clearly was staring at the city from the train. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself somewhere with no memory of how he got there, and no idea how to get back.__

____

The curly haired man slumped in his seat, gripping his cup with both hands and realizing just how cold he was. Staring, unfocused, into his mug his mind wandered to the anger in his partner’s face earlier that day, the spite with which his words had been spoken. The emptiness inside of him seemed to become an ice cold black hole. He knew his partner didn’t need him. That he would be better without him. His eyes focused back in when he felt liquid dripping onto his hand, and he realized tears were running down his face.  
Placing the mug back on the table in front of him he hugged his arms close to his body, stroking the lined skin gently through his jacket. His eyes fixed on the table in front of him once again in a blank, blurred stare. His skin felt hot.

He was speaking. When had he started speaking? His eyes were so tired he could feel the rings around them. “’m telling you I’m fine.” He found himself finishing a sentence, eye to eye with his partner, who was knelt in front of him, eyes wide with worry.  
“And I’m telling you something’s wrong.” He reached forwards to take Dakota’s hand without looking. “It’s preposterous for you to even…” he trailed off, eyes widening even more as his fingers brushed Dakota’s forearm, which he had never even seen bare before, let alone touched.  
Dakota’s mind raced at the realization, when did he take off his jacket? When did Cavendish get here? When did he _take off his jacket? ___  
“Dakota?” Cav’s piercing blue eyes were locked with his, voice strained.  
The younger man gulped nervously, beginning to shake. “Cav...?”  
“Please tell me that I did not just feel what I think I felt.”  
“N-n-no, it was just my arm.” He forced a laugh, “Someone has a dirty- “  
“Don’t.” Snapped his partner darkly, “This is not a joking matter.” He kept eye contact, silently begging his partner to prove him wrong.  
The smaller man shifted, trying to think of any excuse. Cavendish’s eyes closed, a dark, tense expression on his face as he raised a shaking hand and slowly stroked it down the thick, raised lines that surrounded Dakota’s arms, his soft fingers sensitive enough to feel the dry, fresh scabbing on some of them.  
His eyes opened, glaring into his tanned partner’s eyes before travelling down and finally seeing the scar-laced arms of his companion.  
Dakota was frozen with fear, unable to think of any way to diffuse the situation.  
“How many?” Cavendish asked, voice frighteningly quiet and steady despite his eyes burning into his partner’s.  
“I don’t know how to-“  
“How many, Dakota?” He cut the frightened man’s shaking voice off with a serious tone.  
“Hundreds.” He whispered  
Cavendish recoiled with a look of horror.  
Dakota’s face crumbled, heart shattered, eyes welled with tears. “See, this is why I-I couldn’t… I knew you would hate me even more. You don’t need this on your plate as well.”  
“Hundreds…” The tall man seemed to be stuck in a horrified trance.  
“Pretend you didn’t see anything, Cav.” Dakota was fumbling, halfway through putting his jacket back on, “I’m sorry.”  
Cavendish seemed to snap out of his trance and looked back at his partner again, “How dare you? How dare you keep this from me – how long has this been going on, Dakota?! Why did it start?” His voice was frighteningly steady and quiet.  
“It’s been going on for a few years, and honestly I can’t tell ya how it happened, started, whatever you want.” Dakota hugged himself, bothering his lip as he watched Cav in fear. “If it helps there aren’t hundreds of individual scars… a lot of them are multiple cuts deep.”  
Cavendish slammed his fist on the table, making the smaller man flinch and whimper, “Vincent Dakota this is not a joking matter.”  
“That wasn’t a joke!” Dakota defended himself, shaking again.  
“It isn’t helping the situation!” Snapped Cavendish, arms crossed.  
Dakota hunched forwards, shaking noticeably and his breath shuddering.  
“How thoughtless can you be? How incredibly st-” the tall man’s voice caught in his throat as he saw a distinct glint in the light between Dakota’s head and his knees, a glint which lead his gaze down to two growing marks on his trousers. His blood ran cold, his rage stopped and he saw his partner properly: hunched double, gripping his arms so tight his dark knuckles were white, his body shaking with silent sobs.  
Cavendish rested his head in his hands, unable to process the current situation. It was then that he realized that they were still in a café. Admittedly they were tucked away in the back corner out of anyone’s view, surrounded by shelves packed with books, preventing their voices from carrying. Private enough, yet too public for this conversation.

____

He stood up weakly and rested his hand on Dakota’s shaking shoulder, “Come with me, Vincent.” His partner looked up at him through watery eyes, breath hitching. “Please” he added gently.  
The shorter man gulped, then nodded. He stood; shoulders hunched, head bowed, rubbing at his eyes, still half hugging himself. He took two steps forward before noticing the hand extended to him and raised his eyes to see Cavendish’s soft expression. Slowly he took the outstretched hand, receiving a comforting squeeze as he was pulled into his taller partner’s side, staring vacantly though his glasses as he followed. 

The train was almost empty on their trip back out of the city, which was for the better as both time travelers were exhausted. Cavendish never let go of Dakota’s hand. The smaller time traveler was pressed into his partner’s side, eyes closed, head nestled into the crook of the mustached man’s neck. Cav was still hot with anger which stemmed from unadulterated terror, how could his partner ever think that hurting himself was an option? The image of Dakota’s scarred arms wouldn’t leave his mind, he worried that they would haunt his dreams. Their conversation in the café wasn’t over, simply postponed.

Cavendish was a tall, lean man. His choice of clothing often accented that. However, he was strong. One could not be a part of the bureau without many different forms of strength. This fact came in handy when the train pulled up to their station and the realization that Dakota was sleeping dawned on him. After the day is partner had endured he decided to let him rest, scooped the shorter man up into his arms and slipped out of the carriage out before the doors closed.

The slight man busied himself making tea and comfort foods as Vinnie slept deeply on the couch. He also gathered a bowl of hot, salty water hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, bandages and a clean cloth. He sat on the floor in front of his sleeping partner and just let himself appreciate the soft, sweet appearance of Dakota as he slept. For the first time in recent memory his face didn’t look strained and anxious as he rested, his usually restless body still. Cavendish reached out a hand, stroking his fingers through Vinnie’s soft curls and straightening his tinted glasses. His fingers trailed down his partner’s cheek and down his scars, which were once again exposed. Knotting their fingers together he gently tugged his partner’s hand out, extending his arm. With his free hand, he began wiping the scars and fresh wounds with the cloth soaked in salt water. As the water darkened to a murky reddish brown he poured the hydrogen peroxide, hissing and spitting, over the wounds. Stroking the ointment across his skin he finished his care by bandaging up to his elbow. Once finished with his task the Cavendish sat back and let himself finally appreciate the sight of his peaceful partner.

Dakota stirred, as he gained consciousness he recognized the familiar embrace of the couch. He stretched, the feeling of release that filled him hitting a pinnacle when his shoulders cracked loudly in the otherwise quiet room. This was the first time in a long time that he had awoken feeling refreshed. He couldn’t even remember falling asleep. He pulled the blanket that surrounded him in close, turning his back on the cushions with a smile. The last thing he remembered was getting on a train with...  
His eyes snapped open to see a sleeping Cav slumped on the floor in front of him, resting back against the coffee table, a half-drunk mug of tea tilted precariously in his hands. It all came flooding back to him, his day of dissociation, his partner finding him in the café. The argument. Both arguments. His scars. But his memories ended on the train, sitting next to Cavendish, trying to keep his eyes open. How did he get here?

He sat up, running a hand through his mass of curls. As his body lost the weight of sleep he noticed that his arm felt... heavy and thick. As he brought it down his breath hitched at the sight of the white mummy-like bandages that wrapped not one, but both arms to his elbows. He ran a shaking hand across the carefully applied bindings, gaze travelling back to his partner on the floor. Cav was sleeping soundly, and it made sense. It was 1am – many hours past his partner’s strict 10pm curfew. The silver haired man leant to his left a little, tipping the cup to the edge of spilling.  
With a speed that Dakota didn’t usually poses this soon after waking he shot forth and grabbed the cup to put it on the table behind the sleeping man. As he pulled the mug towards himself he realized that his actions may not have been the best idea when his partner’s arm raised, hand still hooked in the handle of the mug. With a sharp breath, the man’s startling blue eyes snapped open to stare wide at Dakota, with only inches between them, blinking to try and focus.  
“Vinnie,” he breathed, arm falling back to his lap, face softening in a gentle smile.  
“Hey Cav.” Dakota smiled awkwardly, voice hoarse with sleep and he set the cup down.  
His partner’s sweet expression faded as he shot to his knees, taking the other man’s bandaged arm and checking it over. “How are you feeling? Some of the cuts were fresh, they don’t hurt do they? And the bandages, they’re not too tight?”  
“No, it’s fine – I can barely feel my arms, I swear! They’ve never been this calm before, thank you!” Dakota’s eyes were starry, his smile wide and honest.  
The older man gave a quick nod, heaving a tired sigh, eyes never leaving his partner’s.  
The stars flickered out and the grin slowly dropped. “What’s wrong, Cav?” His head cocked to the side like a puppy, glasses falling slightly crooked.  
“I’m just thinking, Vinnie.”  
“’Bout what?”  
“How my partner, the one person I trust above all others. The person I live with, who holds my life in his hands on a daily basis – the man I…” He cut himself short, eyes filling with pain and something Dakota couldn’t decipher, but took note of. “How my friend could do something like mutilate himself and go through whatever brought the need to do so without even thinking to try and talk to me about it?!” The words struck Vinnie like a bolt of lightning, Cav finished his statement, breathing hard with a face of stone. He was shaking slightly, ice blue eyes almost daring his friend to argue. “Why couldn’t you trust me?” He whispered, expression changing again, anger morphed into what must have been hurt. “How could you do that to yourself, Dakota? Why couldn’t you trust me?”  
Dakota’s expression was blank, eyes staring through Cavendish as his mind slowly searched to find an answer without jeopardizing his self-inflicted mission.  
“Please, Vincent.” Begged Cavendish softly, his hand reaching up and straightening his partner’s skewed glasses, “Explain.”  
Vinnie was silent for a long time, staring forwards. “There’s a lot I can’t explain, Balthazar.” He started, his voice slow, each word carefully chosen. The use of his partner’s first name in full, stated simply that this wasn’t a statement to be taken lightly. “Please don’t ask me to.”  
“Then just tell me what you can,” The older man offered, finding himself shaking slightly, “But for heaven’s sake, Vincent, _tell me something _.”__  
The shorter man released a breath and closed his eyes, fidgeting with his bandages.  
“Things go wrong often.” He began, his tone serious, his pacing still slow and deliberate. “And then they go _wrong _in a way they never should – in a way that I just can’t handle – I do something that I shouldn’t do. The first time I did it I was left with my first cut, and watching that heal, sometimes picking at it to hurt myself again, to make myself feel something, to remind me that I couldn’t let it happen again made it better.” He paused, wringing his hands, “But it’s not always under my control when things go _wrong _– or… maybe it is, I feel like it is anyway, and when it happens again which is..” He gave a scratchy, humorless laugh, rubbing at his arms, “Often. I find the only way I can cope is a new cut to pick at, to watch heal as I try to process what happened.” He stopped, his hands came to rest on his knees, breathed a heavy-hearted sigh. He opened his eyes slowly to look directly into his partner’s. “We mess up so much. I mess up so much. I’m sorry.” His face scrunched, eyes filling with tears, a sob tearing from his chest, hands gripping at his knees so tight his tanned knuckles were white. “I’m sorry, Bal.” He bowed his head, hiding his now flowing tears from his partner, “I’m so useless. You deserve much better than me. I’m _sorry _” his body shook with heavy breathing, sobs sounding irregularly as he failed to suppress them. “Please don’t hate me.” he whispered so quietly, so shakily that Cavendish had to strain to hear the broken man before him. Dakota completely gave way to his body-shaking sobs.______  
The older man sat, staring at his partner in awe. While he may not have entirely understood what had brought Dakota to self-harm, he understood enough, and the immense pain that he had borne, the hurt and feelings of worthlessness hit Cavendish hard. How had he not seen his partner tearing apart at the seams? All of the things that he had said in the heat of anger ran through his mind and his stomach turned sour. What had he done?!  
He reached a shaking hand out to Dakota, lightly resting on the younger man’s fingers.  
“Dakota?” He began and - upon not hearing a change in the man’s hitching, erratic breathing - gripped the hand and tugged Dakota down to his lap, holding him close, long limbs more than enough to wrap around the sobbing man.  
The shorter man curled tighter inwards crossing his arms and legs as though trying to shield himself.  
Cavendish stroked his hair gently, “Dakota,” He murmured gently, “Dakota please.” He tried again. When there was still no response he cupped the younger man’s jaw, tilting his head gently, stroking the tears away with his thumb.  
“Vincent,” He began in a soft voice, “Please listen to me.” Dakota’s eyes opened to stare up at Cavendish, tears hesitating in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for the way I speak to you… The way I spoke to you yesterday. When I get angry or anxious I lose control of my tongue and you’re always right there and I never thought about how it would impact you. You’re always so happy, everything seems to run off you like water off a duck’s back. But that’s no excuse, and Dakota…” The taller man’s eyes searched his partner’s through his glasses. “I’m so sorry.” Cav rested his forehead against Dakota’s, keeping their intense eye contact. “But understand this, know it to be true, Vincent. I will never hate you. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.”  
The shorter man’s eyes widened behind his glasses, face screwing up, tears beginning again as he began gasping for breath, “No-no, don’t – Cav, don’t –” he couldn’t say what he wanted for so many reasons, the top being his spiraling panic attack.  
“Poor choice of words?” The older man offered biting his lip, uncertainty cold in his heart. “I’m sorry,” he sighed deeply. “I can’t seem to express myself properly. What I’m trying to say, Vinnie, is – is… I’ll try to change. You deserve better. If I could just ask you to please be patient with me – I know I don’t deserve it – but please. I’ll never hate you. Please don’t hate me?” Cav’s face was tilted down as he watched his partner patiently. Dakota was staring up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.  
The older man’s shoulders dropped. “I understand.” He began, hands falling from his partner’s face to his shoulders where he gave an encouraging squeeze. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be right for you. You deserve much better than I could ever be.”  
Dakota blanched as his partner untangled himself and stood, straightening his green suit and top hat.  
“I suppose I should pack.” He began, pacing the room, “however I do need to write my notice, which is probably more-”  
Finally snapping out of his daze, the shorter man called out in an attempt to cut his pacing partner off mid-sentence. “Don’t.” The long-legged man didn’t break his stride or speech as his partner tried to get his attention from the floor.  
“Balthazar!” He moaned loudly, and the pacing finally stopped. His friend whipped around to stare at him. “Balthazar please stop.”  
“Vincent?”  
“Stay, I’m begging you, Balthazar. Stay with me.” Vincent was hunched over his knees, head in his hands.  
“B-b-but why?” the taller man stuttered out, “When I hurt you so of-”  
“Because I love you!” Roared Dakota, snapping his head up to his partner, glasses gripped in his hand.

_____ _

____

Cavendish was stunned into silence not simply by his partner’s words but also his eyes, uncovered for the first time in his presence and beautifully mismatched.  
“I love you, Balthazar. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. I know you don’t feel the same. Just please… Stay.” Tears were freely flowing down his tanned cheeks.  
“Dakota,” the tall man breathed weakly, “Vincent, I-”  
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same. I understand.” His voice was small and broken. “We can pretend this never happened. Anything. Just please don’t leave me.”  
Cavendish made his way across the room to his friend; taking slow, deliberate steps. He towered over Dakota, who was knelt, cowering as he watched his partner with caution and fear. They had never discussed same sex relationships, and while his partner seemed to not be particularly judgmental, one could never be sure until they had discussed it. The very idea of that uncertainty, the possible threat of outing himself, combined with the object of his affections being Cav himself, Dakota was in dangerous waters and that terrified him.  
The tall man extended his hand to his partner, watching him carefully. A hesitant, bandaged hand reached up and rested in the outstretched palm. With a sudden strong tug the shorter man had been pulled to his feet with such a force that he stumbled forwards into his partner’s chest. Pale hands rested on either side of his tanned face and ice blue eyes bore into his own mismatched brown and blue, thumbs wiping away the remains of tears.  
“What did you just say?” There was a fire behind the older man’s eyes.  
“C-Cav, I ..” Dakota stuttered, clearly frightened.  
“Please, repeat yourself.” He implored, squeezing slightly.  
A loud gulp, a deep breath and the shorter man spoke hesitantly. “Balthazar, I’m in love with you. I’m sorry.” He could feel his heart beating so hard he was sure his partner could feel it.  
Darkness filled the tall man’s eyes and he kept them locked on his partner, moving closer, slightly tilting the shorter man’s face up towards him. His breath was shaking as he whispered, “Vincent Dakota, you absolute fool.” He rested his forehead down on his partner’s, “I’m in love with you.” He bumped their noses gently, pointedly, before he captured the shorter man’s lips with his. Their eyes fluttered closed, “Madly” he breathed before catching his lips again, “Uncontrollably” and again, “unbearably.”  
Cavendish felt hands run up his chest and push him away gently, both of them breathing heavily as their separated.  
Dakota looked up at him, face contorted in a mixture of fear and confusion, heart pounding in his ears, “Cav, did you really mean it?”  
The taller man smiled softly down at him, “Of course I do, Dakota. I always have.”  
Dakota stared blankly at his partner, registering what had just happened, his eyes scrolling back and forth as though he was reading. The taller man watched him with interest, waiting patiently.  
Everything seemed to click, his eyes cleared up and locked on his partner again. He took a deep breath, grabbed fistfuls of Cavendish’s hair and brought their lips crashing together in a kiss full of longing and hope. 

They gripped at each other, lips moving in unison before finally breaking to catch their panting breath, eyes still closed. Dakota kissed down Cav’s cheek, jaw and neck, biting slightly at the curve of his neck before settling on placing continuous kisses in one spot, head resting on his shoulders. He breathed in the older man’s fresh, rosy sent. 

Cav wrapped his arms around his partner’s back, enjoying the warmth of the shorter man’s body. Dakota’s form began shaking again, not as aggressively as it had before, but noticeably either way. He gave a gentle squeeze and kissed the tanned man’s ear softly, “Dakota, what’s wrong?”  
“I-I was,” He stuttered out through ragged, catching breaths. “I was so s-s-scared I would lose you.” He nuzzled into his partner’s green jacket, “So scared you’d hate me.. That you would leave me.”  
Cavendish nuzzled the shorter man’s face, prompting him to lift his head, and pressed his pale forehead to his partner’s for the third time that night, smiling warmly at him.  
“You never have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere, and I could never hate you. I’m just not built that way.” He kissed the tears from Dakota’s cheeks before pulling him in close with a warm hug neither wanted to end.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly a way to work through a lot that I was going through, and who better to help than the cutest pair this side of the time stream?
> 
> I wrote this back in February/March and finished the final edits in May, and it hasn't been betad so please let me know if I've missed anything. It doesn't reference the crossover at all, so if you haven't seen that you're safe.
> 
> I'm not used to posting my work online, I hope whoever is reading likes it!


End file.
